Moon Blessed

Chapter 8 ~ Lectures

Nastasia stood in the Hall of Saints, glaring up at the stained glass windows depicting her predecessors. Nastasia the Blessed was centered between the other six Moon Blessed. It was towards her namesake that most of her anger was directed.

"If you had chosen to die, I wouldn't be in this mess," Nastasia whispered. "But instead, you had to live and die again later for the glory of the Goddess. Isn't she glorified enough?"

Nastasia held the glassy moonlit gaze that mirrored her own. "And why must the cycle continue? What purpose does the Goddess have for martyred Humans? Each and every one of you died in some terrible way, and yet your deaths are praised as lessons from the Goddess."

"What lesson is to be learned from you, Nastasia the Blessed? Raped by a man because you would not have him. Brutalized and left for dead, just to be restored by the Two-Faced Goddess, and then to die again when a jealous priestess pushed you off a balcony in the Temple of Shadows. What lesson was to be learned from that?"

Nastasia shifted to the window portraying Saint Pavel, who had been the last Saint before her own birth. "What lesson was to be learned from you? A Mage who was still persecuted even after becoming Moon Blessed? The people accused you of tricking the Goddess into giving you her magic."

"They dismembered you and buried your remains instead of burning them, so your soul would be trapped here and could never ascend to the Vale. Yet they still call you a Saint and claim that your death has been the greatest lesson of all."

She faced another window. "Saint Ivanka, who gathered so much knowledge during her lifetime, could not gather the knowledge needed to spare herself from insanity. You ripped yourself apart using the very magic that brought you back to life. The stain of your blood still soils the floor of the Temple of Saints, though a statue has been erected atop it." A statue of Nastasia the Blessed, in fact.

Nastasia swept her gaze across each and every one of the Moon Blessed Saints until she spied a regular glass window to the right of Saint Pavel. That was where her window would go someday. She'd been told that since she was a child. As soon as I die, they'll put me up there with the lot of you and wonder what lesson had to be learned at my expense, Nastasia thought bitterly.

Footsteps echoed behind her. She knew who it was before the person arrived at her side. She hadn't spoken to her mother in the three days that had passed since the meeting. Nor had she spoken to anyone else. Nastasia had barricaded herself in the training room, honing her magic and blades, not allowing Alexei or even Nikolai to enter the chamber.

Serafima gazed up at the Saints, her hands clasped demurely at her waist. "Just because their lives ended in violence does not mean yours is going to," she said gently, not looking at Nastasia. "We will do everything in our power to ensure it." Nastasia didn't reply. "At least you will not marry Emperor Kazimir. Is that not some small comfort?"

"I don't believe for a moment that he'll let one of his Knights have me if I'm within his grasp," Nastasia answered. "Even if I marry an Andrian Knight, I'll find myself widowed and married to him soon enough. And if you think this contest will dissuade a man as ambitious as himself, you are a fool. Even I know that."

"It might not dissuade him, but it will delay him, and it will give us a chance to form stronger alliances with the leaders of the other kingdoms."

"It seems a little hypocritical to participate in a competition meant to reduce tension and divisions with the intent to use that tension and division to your advantage."

Serafima's sharp blue gaze snapped to Nastasia. "It seems naive to participate without that intention. We are trying to prevent and prepare for a war at the same time. No one is going to play fair. We must gain the upper hand while we can."